


Walking Tall

by almosthuman_butnotquite



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bisexual Inquisitor, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Cassandra is So Done, Cullen Has Issues, Everyone else is just background for the emotionally constipated warriors, F/M, M/M, Mages vs. Templars, Minor Male Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Cassandra Pentaghast, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:02:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almosthuman_butnotquite/pseuds/almosthuman_butnotquite
Summary: Of course Cullen was only a friend. Herbest friend.





	1. To Be Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally ship a whole lot of het, but shitfire boy, these two make me want to scream into the sun.

Losing her parents was the first sign that Cassandra Pentaghast’s life would be full of loss. Her uncle Vestalus was a senior member of the Mortalitasi and took Cassandra and her older brother Anthony in. She grew up in the Grand Necropolis of Nevarra, where she was treated like a porcelain doll by her uncle and lived her life through a gilded cage. She hated her life in Nevarra. Day and night she dreamed about becoming a dragon hunter with Anthony, to carry on the legends of their ancestors like they always wanted.

Between suitors and stifling isolation, Cassandra trained with a sword alongside Anthony. Those times were what she was the most fond of; seeing her brother smile and hearing him laugh was her favorite thing. Anthony was her whole world until she was twelve. Anthony was gaining fame as a real dragon hunter. He was approached by apostates who wanted him to get them some dragon’s blood. When Anthony refused, they beheaded him. He died over something that shouldn’t have ended in the loss of human life. It was yet another sign that her life was never meant to be happy. Cassandra was enraged, even more so when the apostates could not be tracked down. She begged her uncle to send her to the Templar Order so that she could _do something_.

Instead, Vestalus sent her to the Seekers of Truth.

Seeker Byron was a kind man who understood her pain. He focused on her religious education over her martial one. When she looked back on it, Cassandra understood why; Byron was trying to see her through her blinding rage, to show her that pain was not the end. She was too stubborn to see it then, the rage choking her breath sometimes, but she eventually saw the meaning behind his words. She embraced her studies, excelled at them. Seeker Byron was impressed. Merely three years after Anthony’s death, Cassandra underwent her vigil.

In the Blasted Hills of Orlais, Cassandra lived in isolation for a year. The only voices she had for company were hers and her demons’. She drowned them out with the Chant of Light every day, the flickering flame of her candle brighter than the sun. In the beginning, the total isolation was difficult. She longed for someone else to even just pass by her window. But she was dedicated and determined, the youngest Seeker to undergo the vigil since the Storm Age.

When she was a young adult, Cassandra fell in love with Regalyan D’Marcall, a Circle mage from the White Spire. They saved Divine Beatrix together, but no one ever cared about the truth of the story. Regalyan was the only man she ever loved, and he too was ripped from her before his time. He was present at the Conclave. There wasn’t even a body for her to see, no personal belonging of his to keep. It was hard to go back to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes with her Dalish prisoner, just thinking of what Regalyan’s final moments must have been like.

In retrospect, she had taken her anger and pain out on the elf. She didn’t know how to grieve Regalyan. All she felt was a blinding anger that she struggled to contain. Athrien Lavellan was kind and he tried to keep his newfound friends smiling, but Cassandra needed to grieve. She would figure out how to grieve like a normal person when the Breach was sealed. She had more important things to focus on here in Haven, such as her reading or her swordsmanship. _Especially_ her swordsmanship.

“Seeker?”

Cassandra sighed and swung her sword in a circle at her side. She knew who was standing behind her, keeping a good distance from her swings. She wanted to slice up some dummies in peace. She never had peace anymore.

“Commander.”

Commander Cullen Rutherford cleared his throat. His hands were folded behind his back as he patiently waited for her full attention. “Perhaps we could speak for a moment?”

Cassandra sheathed her sword. She turned to face Cullen, crossing her arms over her breastplate. “If this is about the Breach, the Herald of Andraste is the one you should speak to.”

Cullen shook his head. “It isn’t that. I understand you lost more than just Most Holy at the Conclave. I… I want to offer my condolences.”

She felt tears well up in her throat, threatening to choke her. She blinked them away. “Thank you,” she whispered, averting her eyes. She had made no mention of Regalyan to anyone at Haven. She was curious. “How did you know?”

“You’ve snapped at our spymaster more times than I can count,” he chuckled. “I just want to know if you’re all right.”

So Cullen didn’t know about the Conclave. Cassandra had to wonder — was she really so transparent, or was Leliana prying without her knowledge and then telling Cullen? The latter was far more plausible. Cassandra met his eye again.

“I’m fine, Commander.”

Something in Cullen’s face softened. He stepped closer so that they wouldn’t be heard. “Cassandra, I’m here as a friend. If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.”

Cassandra swallowed hard. Her eyes stung more now than they did a moment ago and it _wouldn’t stop_. She always forgot what friends were supposed to do. She didn’t have a whole lot of friends in her life. Getting close to people meant she would lose them and she didn’t want to lose anyone else. Ducking her head, she pressed herself against his chest, squeezing him tighter than she probably should have. Cullen didn’t react at first, staring down at the top of her head as she sobbed into his fur pauldrons. But his arms wrapped around her shoulders and he held her tight.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen whispered.

“Is this all a part of His plan?” she sobbed. “Why does He want to cause me so much pain?”

“I don’t know.” Cullen rubbed her back gently, soothingly. “I don’t know.”

He held Cassandra until she stopped crying. It didn’t take long for her to gather herself, and she lifted her head after only a few minutes. She dried her damp cheeks with the edge of her sleeve. To his credit, Cullen didn’t look like the strongest woman he had ever known had just fallen apart on his shoulder in full view of his men. He smiled gently at her.

“Forget you know this about me,” she muttered.

“Forget I know what?” he asked.

Cassandra snorted. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Anytime, Cassandra. You know where I am.” Cullen inclined his head respectfully and left her to her training, his hands once more folded behind his back as he surveyed his men.

Cassandra cleared her throat and marched through the open gates into Haven. The Herald of Andraste would be inside the Chantry, probably flirting with Josephine while Leliana hovered nearby, out of sight but still looking out for the ambassador. Cassandra had noticed, even if Leliana thought it wasn’t obvious. Athrien was only flirting, normal enough for most people. Josephine saw it for that and nothing more.

As Cassandra pushed open the large doors to the Chantry, she heard a scuffle farther inside. She followed it down to Josephine’s office, where the door was left wide open. She heard shouting and witnessed Leliana drag Athrien from Josephine’s office by the collar of his coat. He was trying to placate her, his hands held aloft peaceably.

“All right, all right, I’m going!” Athrien said. He dusted himself off when Leliana released him. “Hey, it was just harmless flirting.”

“Not harmless enough,” Leliana sniffed. She nodded at Cassandra and turned on her heel. The door to Josephine’s office closed a lot harder than it should have.

Athrien chuckled when he met Cassandra’s eyes, smoothing down his unruly red curls. “I guess you saw that?”

“Only a little,” she said, and felt an amused smirk curl her lips. “Caught sitting on Lady Josephine’s desk again, I suppose?”

“I probably shouldn’t do that again.” He laughed. “She is… I’m not her type, I don’t think. Josephine is classy and graceful and… and she’s beautiful.”

Cassandra could see the look in his eyes, the doe-eyed innocence of a crush. Athrien’s cheeks were flushed with the embarrassment of it. He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided her eyes. Cassandra couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up in her throat. She was like that once, though it seemed so long ago.

“I’ve said too much, haven’t I?”

Cassandra waved her hand as she struggled to rein in her amusement. “It’s good,” she said eventually. “In these dark times, we need to find joy.”

“Some more than others,” he teased.

She punched him in the arm and pretended not to notice when he rubbed at the spot. “You are terrible.”

“Was there something you needed?”

“I need to go out and hit something that moves.”

Athrien’s brows drew together in concern. “What about Cullen? He isn’t free to spar with you?”

Cassandra folded her hands behind her back as they began walking. “I need to kill something,” she corrected. She didn’t miss the way Athrien’s eyebrows shot up. “I have some issues I’d like to work out.”

“All right, let me just call Solas and Varric and we’ll... find something for you to kill.”

Cassandra waited patiently outside of Haven’s gates. Varric would take some convincing to leave his cozy spot by the fire and a tankard to watch Cassandra maim things, but Solas was a ray of sunshine when they went out into the wilds. Athrien seemed at home in the Hinterlands as well, surrounded by trees and wildlife. Cassandra supposed that the fresh air did them all wonders but she simply didn’t admire the Hinterlands the way her elven companions did. Huh. She and Varric did share something in common.

“Going somewhere?”

Cassandra jumped at the voice behind her and whirled to find Leliana smiling at her. Leliana always smiled so genuinely at her. Even now, with the Breach giving the sky an ugly color and a chilling wind seeping into one’s bones if they stayed in one spot too long, Leliana’s smile was as warm as the sun.

“The Herald has important things to do in the Hinterlands,” she replied, straightening. “He’s getting Solas and Varric now.”

“And this has nothing to do with—”

“It is none of your concern, Leliana.” Cassandra smiled at her friend. “I have things I need to work out.”

Leliana chuckled. “As do we all. But you must tell me if I can do anything, Cassandra.”

Cassandra nodded. “Of course.”

Leliana left her to wait alone. Again, she had to wonder — was she really so transparent?

* * *

“Feeling better, Seeker?”

Cassandra wiped the apostate’s blood from her face and felt a disgusted noise start low in the back of her throat. Varric must have taken the hint because he didn’t press her further. She sheathed her sword and placed her shield on her back. She did feel better, though. In an instant, her grieving process was obvious. Hitting things seemed to help her feel less troubled.

“Look at you, Seeker. You’re almost smiling!”

“Continue teasing and I will smile for another reason entirely.”

Varric held his hands up to show he meant no harm. “It’s just nice to know that you don’t always scowl.”

The dwarf ducked out of the way when she swung for him, jumping away from her reach and behind Athrien. Cassandra meant nothing by it, even sharing a laugh with Varric. Athrien and Solas chuckled.

“It is nice to see you smile, Cassandra,” Athrien said.

Cassandra tapped the hilt of her sword. “It’s nice to make something bleed.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Solas said.

They stayed in the countryside until nightfall, well past the point when Cassandra had had her fill of violence. They sat around the campfire outside their tents and ate a dinner of hearty ram stew that Athrien, surprisingly, cooked for them. And then Varric brought out a bottle of wine and she was no longer in a good mood.

“Is that really wise?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, come now, Cassandra,” Solas said. “Athrien won’t be drinking.”

Athrien nodded. “One of us should be responsible and you need a break. Go on, have enough fun for the both of us.” He stood and grabbed his staff, heading off toward the edge of camp.

* * *

They drank well into the night. It was easy to forget they weren’t safe at home in Haven, where they could retire to their beds when they had had their fill and sleep well into the next day. But they would sleep there in the forest clearing until their heads no longer pounded by simply seeing sunlight. And Athrien would be sober as the day he was born to nurse them until they could get moving again.

“So, Seeker, tell us.” Oh, no. Varric had a glint in his eye that meant he was up to no good. “Is there anyone you admire?”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said with a wave of her arm. “I don’t have time for such ridiculous notions, Varric.”

Varric snorted. “Admire doesn’t have to mean someone you ache for.”

Cassandra sighed. She didn't know why she tried to rebuff Varric when she always relented to his teasing. She could not simply let him imagine things that were not true. “I admire the Herald.” She paused, thought for a moment. “I admire Leliana, and Lady Josephine.”

“Ruffles?”

She felt her face flush with more than just alcohol. “I don’t know how she can deal with all those nobles. There’s no harm in admiring a friend.”

“What about Commander Cullen?” Solas asked. He had been quiet all night, but he chose now to chime in. His cheeks were flushed red from the wine. Varric had cut him off nearly an hour ago.

“I admire him as well, though I don’t see how this is any of your business.” Her face was burning hotter than it should have been as she glared at Varric.

Varric chuckled and that glint was somehow even more wicked. She didn’t trust that look. It usually meant he was up to no good. “Is there more to that than you’re letting on?”

“Absolutely not,” she repeated. “The commander is my best friend, Varric. Not everything must be read into.”

Varric leaned back and put his palms up. “All right, all right, Curly’s just a friend. I get it.”

 _Was he though?_ a niggling little voice asked in the back of her mind. Varric and Solas’ conversation dissolved as she pondered that question. Of course Cullen was only a friend. Her _best friend._ Cassandra would have groaned and held her head in her hands were she alone, but Varric and Solas were still sitting across the fire from her, teasing each other drunkenly.

Cassandra excused herself and bid her company goodnight. She wobbled on unsteady legs to her tent, where she hardly even removed her breastplate, boots, and gloves before she curled up on her bedroll. She was tired and her thoughts were bothering her. _Cullen is only a friend,_ she reminded herself sternly before she drifted off.


	2. We've Not Yet Lost All Our Graces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was making a scene, a big enough scene that Solas was averting his eyes and Varric was hiding his face in his hands. Cassandra even felt kind of embarrassed.

All it took was one question.

One question and Cassandra felt her world tip. _Is there anyone you admire?_ She replayed Varric’s question for days, even as the world moved on and the Inquisition made headway on saving the world. Admiration was simple. One could be admired for any number of things — kindness, selflessness, saving lives — but where was the line drawn between admiration and infatuation?

Not that Cassandra was infatuated with anyone. She didn’t have time for infatuation when she hardly had enough time for herself. And an infatuation with her best friend? Absolutely not.

A week ago, Athrien and his advisors met in the war room to formulate a plan to deal with the Chantry. From what little Cassandra remembered of the discussion in the war room, Josephine suggested Athrien address the clerics. Cullen was outraged and Leliana thought they would be putting the elf in danger. When asked for his opinion, Athrien pouted. He said it was a terrible plan and Cullen agreed with him for once. The commander didn’t think they should care about the Chantry’s opinion on their Inquisition.

“I will go with him,” Cassandra had said suddenly. She needed to get out of Haven and feel the sunshine on her back. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them.”

“But why?” Leliana asked. “This is nothing but a—”

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the Breach.” She looked across the table to Cullen, who flushed and averted his gaze when their eyes met. “Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

That had somehow decided it. Once Josephine received word that everything was in place, Cassandra, Varric and Solas accompanied Athrien to the city. Val Royeaux was grand and colorful. The sun was warm overhead. Cassandra welcomed it gladly, enjoyed the warmth seeping through the leather of her clothes. She heard bells ringing.

“The city still mourns,” she said.

A passing noblewoman shrieked as she seemed to recognize them, cowering like they would lash out and hurt her.

“Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are,” Varric muttered to her.

“Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric.”

“My Lord Herald!”

One of Leliana’s agents approached them and knelt before a very surprised Athrien. He still wasn’t used to the treatment he received from the people. She said a great many Templars had gathered behind the Chantry’s mothers. Cassandra frowned and questioned her further. She said people wanted the Templars to protect them from the Inquisition. That was ridiculous.

“They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you,” the agent reported.

“Only one thing to do, then,” Cassandra said to Athrien.

They went inside the gates of the city. The Summer Bazaar was bright and loud with the ringing of voices, only today they weren’t clamoring over the prices of silk dresses and gold jewelry. One of the Chantry mothers was giving a speech on a stage assembled in front of the entrance to the docks. A crowd was gathered in front of her, trying to shout over her.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” The crowd quieted at the mother’s voice. “Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!” The people shouted angrily at that. The mother caught sight of Athrien and his company pushing through the mob to stand before her. “You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!” The people murmured amongst themselves as they peered up at her. She pointed an accusing finger at Athrien. “Behold the so-called _Herald of Andraste!_ Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!”

The mob briefly exploded in shouts of anger as they all turned to Athrien, to finally put a face to their blame.

“I make no such claim!” Athrien argued. “I wasn’t sent here by Andraste or the Maker! I am simply trying to close the Breach. It threatens us all!”

Cassandra shifted on her feet. “It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

“It is already too late,” the mother said, her voice serious. She gestured to a man as he climbed up on the stage, flanked by some of his officers.

Cassandra reeled in recognition — Lord Seeker Lucius was standing there. But that couldn’t be the Lord Seeker. Something about him seemed strange. His eyes were duller than she remembered.

“The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition’ and the people will be safe once more!”

The crowd gasped and shouted when one of the Templars knocked the Chantry mother down with a punch to the back of her head. Lord Seeker Lucius made no move to stop his officer, but another Templar did. He had been standing beside the mother during her speech. Lucius grabbed the young Templar’s arm.

“Still yourself,” he said in a deep, commanding voice. “She is beneath us.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Athrien demanded.

Lucius turned his harsh gaze on Athrien. “Her claim to ‘authority’ is an insult.” He sniffed. “Much like your own.”

Cassandra tried to approach Lucius as he descended the stairs on the other end of the stage. “Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with—”

“You will not address me,” he said coldly, monotonously.

Cassandra took a step back in her surprise. “Lord Seeker?”

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed.” Cassandra swallowed as Lucius rounded on her, saddling her with guilt she shouldn’t have felt. The Inquisition wasn’t heretical if it was Divine Justinia’s plan. He was scolding her like she was just a child again, with dirt smearing her dress and scrapes on her knees. He sneered at the crowd. “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!”

Cassandra could hear Athrien choking on a noise of disgusted outrage. She looked at him over her shoulder. “That isn’t fair! The mages didn’t _do_ anything!”

The Lord Seeker ignored Athrien. “You are the ones who have failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!”

 _“Righteous?”_ Athrien shrieked. He looked like he might explode with rage.

“If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late,” Lucius continued. “The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

Cassandra thought Athrien was going to scream at the Lord Seeker from the look on his face. And in a way, he did scream. “If you’re not here to help the Chantry, then you just came to make speeches?” He was fuming at Lucius’ words. He was making a scene, a big enough scene that Solas was averting his eyes and Varric was hiding his face in his hands. Cassandra even felt kind of embarrassed.

“I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh.”

The Templar from earlier materialized at Lucius’ side. He was frowning. “But Lord Seeker… What if he really was sent by the Maker? What if—”

“You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!” said the Templar that hit the Chantry mother.

“ _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void. _We_ deserve recognition, independence! You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition… less than nothing.” Lord Seeker Lucius turned to the Templars at his back. “Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!”

They all watched the Templars depart in shock. The whole scene was unsettling; the Templars had abandoned the Chantry? That couldn’t be right. Their duty was _to_ the Chantry. They couldn’t just break away like this.

“That could have gone better,” Athrien mumbled. He was shaking from his rage.

“Indeed,” Solas agreed.

Varric approached them from the edge of the crowd. “Charming fellow, isn’t he?” he asked as he watched the Templars disappear.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra queried. Her voice sounded weak to even her own ears.

“We’ll find another way,” Athrien said before he tore his gloves off with his teeth. ”We should return to Haven and inform the others.”

Cassandra led the way back to the main gates, her mind awhirl over everything she had witnessed. She could feel the glare of the Chantry clerics at their backs as they left. An arrow flew from an unseen bow, landing sharp at her feet, missing the toe of her boot by a mere hair. She screamed and leapt backward.

“An arrow with a message?”

Varric chuckled into his palm at the shrill tone of her voice. He plucked the message from beneath the sharp point of the arrow and cleared his throat. “’People say you’re special. I want to help, and I can bring everyone. There’s a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and ‘round the café, and maybe you’ll meet him first. Bring swords.’” He looked up at Athrien. “It’s signed, ‘Friends of Red Jenny’.”

Athrien took the letter from his outstretched hand. Cassandra looked over his shoulder. The note was bordered with random doodles, and at the bottom was a dismal drawing of the locations mentioned. The letter was written in a large flowing hand.

“They want you specifically,” she murmured.

“Think it’s a trap?” Varric asked.

“We cannot rule anything out,” she replied. “Not after _that_ debacle.”

“It is possible,” Solas agreed.

Athrien glanced around the market, no doubt for whoever sent the message. He sighed after a moment and glanced down at the note in his hand. He wordlessly snatched up the arrow and they doubled back the way they had come. The clerics were gone by the time they reemerged from the docks, looping around through the café. Cassandra admired the mounted dragon’s head as the others searched around. Madame Snippy-Snips, as she was called, must have been quite a prize to take down.

Cassandra sighed wistfully. She often wondered how different her life would have been had she become a dragon hunter like she had always dreamed. Would she still pursue the craft, or would she already be married to some stuck up noble with three children and more finery than she would know what to do with? Would Anthony still be alive, possibly with children of his own? Cassandra smiled softly; she would have loved to be an aunt. She had always loved children, though she couldn’t imagine having any of her own.

“Cassandra?” Athrien asked quietly at her side.

Cassandra blinked at him. How long had she stood transfixed? “Yes?”

“We are going to the upper market now.”

She looked to Varric and Solas. The dwarf was telling Solas a story of some sort, gesturing animatedly with his hands as Solas chuckled. She couldn’t imagine that she never would have met these people. She looked forward to meeting more. She nodded at Athrien. “Of course.”

* * *

The upper market was less busy than the bazaar below. The air was crisper up this high. Cassandra could see the city laid out before her, the shining homes of nobles and the less grand homes of the commoners, stretching out to the sparkling waters. The view was spectacular.

“Wow,” Athrien breathed.

“It is breathtaking,” she agreed.

“This is the first time I’ve been to Orlais,” the Herald murmured.

“I’m sorry that you were met with bigots.”

He chuckled. “I’m not. I don’t want to see the world for anything other than it is. And as a Dalish apostate, I never expected to be greeted with open arms.”

They looked across the city for a while in comfortable silence. A warm breeze ruffled their hair. She wasn’t sure where Varric and Solas got off to, but she supposed it didn’t matter much. They were not children and so they didn’t need constant supervision.

“How was it when you first arrived?” Athrien asked eventually. “When you came for your Seeker training?”

“Hot,” she answered. She laughed softly and looked at him. “It was summer. My uncle sent me with family, some cousins I hardly knew. I was only twelve and could barely lift a broadsword. He didn’t think I could protect myself.” She looked at the water again, extending out to the horizon. “My cousin Maximilian bought me a pastry when we arrived. He thought it would cheer me up. Apparently I had a sour look on my face the whole trip from the Grand Necropolis.”

Athrien was laughing, leaning against the marble railing. “I can’t picture you not being able to lift a broadsword.”

“It was so long ago I can hardly recall it,” she admitted. “But I couldn’t wield a shield to save my life either.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? You? Your shield is almost an extension of you.”

“I am sure there was a time you did not know which end of a staff to point at an enemy,” she replied.

Athrien ducked his head. He was trying to hide his ridiculous grin. He did it often. “But you? You’re so graceful.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. “Thank you, but that was not always the case.”

They fell silent again. The other two members of their company must have been searching for the last red handkerchief without them. Athrien had the other two tucked into his belt. Cassandra caught sight of them fluttering in the breeze in her peripheral vision.

“I once set my family aravel on fire,” Athrien murmured.

Cassandra gave him a wide eyed stare that made him snort. “No.”

“Yes. I didn’t have control over my magic yet. I was only eight. My mother was so livid that she made me stand in front of a tree and stare at it for _hours_. I was surprised she let me have dinner since I turned almost all of our belongings to ash.”

It was her turn to laugh. She could picture a young elf, his orange hair too long and his green eyes too wide and his face unmarked by his coming of age, trying to be apologetic but being so excited about having magic. She knew he was proud to wield a staff and had to admit that he was quite talented. He was one of few mages she had ever trusted.

“I imagine she made you stare at a tree quite often.”

Athrien laughed and nodded. “I was a terrible child, really. I don’t think we could have been friends then.”

“I don’t either. I was always a good child.” Cassandra shrugged. “Well, I was a decent child.”

A sudden shout cut their conversation short. Varric and Solas were returning. Varric was waving a red handkerchief above his head.

“I found it!” he called out.

“You did no such thing!” Solas argued, but there was no heat to his voice.

“I found it, Chuckles, while you were too busy admiring the local plant life.” Varric stuck his tongue out and darted to Athrien’s side. “Here you go, Red.”

“Uh, no,” Athrien said, a frown on his face. He took the handkerchief and tucked it into his belt beside the others. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t like that one?”

“Of course not. It is such a common nickname for redheads.”

Varric chuckled. “I’ll think of something better.” He held a scrap of paper out. “This was tucked into the folds.”

A key fell to the ground when Athrien unfolded the parchment. He picked it up and glanced over the note. “There’s a meeting place and a time.” He turned the key in his hand over. “I suppose this is meant to unlock the gate?”

Cassandra took the note and read it herself. “Are you certain this isn’t a trap?”

“It’s the most elaborate trap I’ve ever encountered,” Varric interjected.

Solas’ eyebrows drew together. “Would anyone really go to the trouble?”

Athrien shoved the note and key into the bag at his hip. “Only one way to find out, right?”

* * *

Sera was crass and bewildering. She bobbed as she talked, walking across Haven’s courtyard beside Athrien. She and Varric got along spectacularly. His immediate nickname for her had been Buttercup and she didn’t fight him on it. Buttercup was hardly the word Cassandra would use for her, but she liked Sera well enough.

Sera, on the other hand, seemed a little put off by Cassandra. At least she liked Cassandra more than Solas.

 _”His head’s crammed up a thousand years ago, innit?”_ she had asked behind her hand, pointing at Solas.

 _”He can hear you,”_ Solas had all but scowled.

Sera had left Orlais with them, trekking all the way back to Haven at their side. She was already cracking jokes with Varric before they were out the main gate. She made a face when Athrien received an invitation to a noble’s party, telling him to tear it up. Athrien did nothing of the sort and tucked the invitation away where Sera couldn’t possibly get it without his notice.

Sera had made a worse face when Grand Enchanter Fiona approached them on their way out of the city. But she had remained quiet and let Athrien and Cassandra speak with Fiona. She invited them to Redcliffe to form an alliance between the mages and the Inquisition against the Breach. Athrien had promised nothing but to think about it.

Athrien laughed at something Sera said. Cassandra lowered her sword as she watched them. They stopped at the wooden gates and Sera cuffed him on the shoulder before they went their own ways. Cassandra sheathed her sword when she realized Athrien was coming her way.

“Do you ever take a break?” Athrien asked as he stopped a few feet away.

“I am now.” She sighed. “Something has been… bothering me since Val Royeaux.”

Athrien leaned against an intact dummy, his arms folding over his chest. “What is it?”

Cassandra felt herself asking, without any tact, “Do you even believe in the Maker?”

Athrien frowned. “I.. No. I’m Dalish, remember?”

She nodded slowly. “Of course.” _Of course he doesn’t believe in the Maker._ “But you claim to be Andraste’s chosen.” She scoffed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “ _How_ can you claim to be _Her_ Herald?”

Athrien swallowed hard. He looked like an animal she had backed into a corner. “I-I don’t… I’m sorry, Cassandra.”

Cassandra shook her head. “No, I am not the one to tell you what to believe. I have to believe the Maker sent you to us in our time of need.”

He nodded like she was right. A woman with a short temper and a sword was usually right anyways. He was rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous gesture he made constantly. “Of course, of course.”

Her growing anger was misplaced, she knew that, but she couldn’t rein it in. She took it out on one of the dummies behind her before Athrien had even excused himself, destroying it with only her fists. Athrien left her in peace, likely to avoid her fists. She still scared him even as their friendship grew.

 _How could he claim to be sent by the Maker when he doesn’t even **believe**? He’s a liar! He’s using you to keep himself alive!_ screamed a voice in her head.

“You’re wrong,” she argued under her breath, leaning her back against another of the training dummies. “He’s never outright claimed to be sent by Him. He wants to help.”

_No he doesn’t! He doesn’t care about anyone here! He’ll lead you all to your deaths!_

“You’re wrong. He’s helping us.”

_Don’t be so naïve! He’s an apostate. He killed Most Holy!_

“Shut up!” she hissed.

“Talking to yourself now?”

Cassandra opened eyes she didn’t even realize she’d closed to find Cullen standing in front of her. She forced her hands to relax at her sides and stood straight. She could control her anger. She could, honest. It just took time and more effort than she usually had. But Cullen didn’t deserve her wrath anymore than Athrien had. “I am trying not to let my anger get the best of me.”

“I can see that,” Cullen said with a glance at the destroyed dummy. He cleared his throat gently. “I overheard your disagreement with our Herald.”

“Should we really be calling him that knowing he doesn’t believe?” she blurted.

“I think the people out there need to believe more than we do.”

Cassandra heaved a sigh. “I suppose you are right. I had just hoped he believed in our cause the way I do.”

Cullen folded his hands behind his back. “I think he does, but he doesn’t believe in the Maker.”

“I should apologize to him. My anger was misplaced.”

“Take a moment, first. If you yell at him again, you’ll never get an apology out.”

They shared a laugh. Cassandra toed at the frozen dirt. She didn’t want to apologize, but she needed Athrien to know that she wasn’t upset with _him_. And she really wasn’t. She was upset with herself for putting words into the elf’s mouth and for assuming things about him. He had answered her questions honestly thus far. If she truly wished to know more about him, she had simply to ask — and keep her anger in check.

When she looked up again, Cullen was much closer than before. He wasn’t entirely too close but he was in her personal space. They often stood this close, but this time she felt her palms get sweaty. Ugh, what was wrong with her?

“Cassandra, I mean it,” he said, his voice a low timber. “Take a moment, destroy another dummy if you have to. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

Cassandra snorted. “No, it would not.”

Cullen chuckled. His fingers brushed her elbow for a brief moment. “Share a drink later?”

“Of course.”

She watched him amble back to his post watching his soldiers, wondering what the fuck was wrong with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll, baby! Comments and kudos are still appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> [It's-a me!](http://almosthuman-butnotquite.tumblr.com)


	3. I'm a Twisted Fool, My Hands are Twisted Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the light of the setting winter sun, Cullen’s eyes were a sweet honey color. They peered out at the Breach from beneath golden lashes, rimmed red from lack of sleep. Cassandra felt her face burn when she caught herself staring and turned her gaze to the darkening sky overhead. She was not a naïve girl, fawning over something that meant nothing in the scheme of things. And mooning over a friend? Certainly not. She had no time for mooning.

Athrien left for the Storm Coast without Cassandra. That was fine; she hadn’t had too much time to herself and she had a new book she wanted to read. Maybe if she was lucky, she could get a hot bath in after dinner tonight. Maybe she would read in the bath until the water got cold. Josephine had offered up her own private bath to the Hands of the Divine along with her collection of fine Antivan soaps. She said that they deserved a moment to relax and enjoy themselves since they were unable to do much until Athrien returned.

Cassandra perched herself on the steps leading down into the Chantry’s crypt, her book in one hand and a pastry in the other. The cook had made a whole bunch of them to feed the troops. Cassandra had managed to grab one before they all vanished. The flaky blueberry pastries had always been her favorite, even if she had never had any better pastries than what she had back in Nevarra.

“How is it that I am constantly making new discoveries about you, Cassandra?”

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at Leliana leaning in the doorway. She closed her book with a snap. “And what discoveries are those?”

Leliana sat on the step beside Cassandra. Her hair was damp and she was positively glowing. Cassandra would have to take advantage of Josephine’s offer. “The fact that you have a soft spot for pastries and…” She peeked at the book cover. “And romantic novels,” she giggled.

Cassandra felt her face flush. She tucked the book beside her on the step. “It is not a soft spot.”

The redhead bumped her elbow into Cassandra’s arm. “There’s nothing wrong with a soft spot, Cassandra. We should all have one.” She smiled. “I have a soft spot for nugs,” she murmured, like she was afraid someone would hear her.

“Nugs?”

Leliana laughed and nodded. “The Hero of Ferelden and I were friends. He surprised me with a nug one day.”

Cassandra had always had questions about the Dalish Warden. She admired him too, but she didn’t think that was really worth mentioning. “What was he like? The Hero?”

“He was kind,” she answered simply. She smiled and tucked her chin into the crook of her elbow. “He always had a joke or a story for us. And he always lent a shoulder when we needed. It didn’t matter if we wanted to talk or to punch something, he was always there.”

“Us?”

“Myself, King Alistair, Morrigan, a Qunari, an Antivan Crow, a Circle mage, and a stone golem who hated birds.” She laughed. “And Osias’ mabari. That slobbery beast was just a furry, smelly ball of affection.”

Cassandra felt her lips quirk in a smile. “It sounds as though you miss them.”

Leliana sighed softly and nodded. “Some days, I do. We were all friends. We were…” She cleared her throat. “Sometimes I fear they were the only friends I have and we hardly speak.”

“You have friends here, Leliana. You are not alone here.”

Leliana turned her head on her arm. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Of course we are.” Cassandra squeezed Leliana’s shoulder.

They sat in silence for a little while. Cassandra split her pastry and offered one half to Leliana. _It’s nice to have friends,_ Cassandra thought. And it was, especially because she knew she wasn’t alone too.

* * *

Madame de Fer returned to Haven a fortnight later with the Herald, along with a _massive_ Qunari sporting an eyepatch. Cassandra had never met a Qunari before, not like this. They were usually trying to drive an axe into her skull. But he approached her during her morning routine of destroying a brittle hay-stuffed dummy, just a week after he’d arrived in Haven.

“You’re the Seeker?”

Cassandra shouted with the effort of cleaving through the dummy’s pole. The dummy fell to the ground with a dull thump. She dug her blade into the ground and leaned heavily against it to catch her breath. She looked up, craned her neck actually, to look the man in the eye. She stood up straight when she was starting to get some air into her lungs, cold fucking mountain wind, wiping her brow on her sleeve.

“Yes?”

He was smirking. “You want a sparring partner?”

“Do I look like I want a sparring partner?” she retorted, though there was no real venom in her voice. She actually felt herself mirroring his smirk.

He laughed loudly. It would have been a little jarring, but considering the fact that he was two heads taller than she was, she almost expected it. “I’m the Iron Bull.”

“Captain of the Bull’s Chargers. The Herald mentioned you were his reason for going to the Storm Coast.” She extended her hand. “Cassandra Pentaghast.”

Iron Bull’s hand was fucking _giant_. It engulfed Cassandra’s hand entirely and shook her entire arm. “Shall we, Cass?”

Cassandra picked up a training sword and her shield. Iron Bull didn’t bother with one. Sweet Andraste, the size of his axe was ridiculous. It must have weighed as much as she did. He set it aside carefully and accepted the training sword she held out to him. The first blow against the shield staggered her, and she parried with a sharp jab to the diaphragm. Iron Bull tried to knock her shield from her hand when he staggered her again but she kept a firm grip and leapt away.

They continued like this — tossing out taunting quips behind their wooden weapons — for well over an hour. They were evenly matched — Cassandra in her agility and Bull in his strength. She easily avoided his wide swings and he avoided her sharp jabs with parries and spins, for the most part. It was refreshing to have a sparring partner, and one who presented a real challenge. One day, she would knock him to the dirt and point the end of her training sword to his throat and _win_. She was nothing if not determined.

She found that she didn’t even mind that they just met and already he was using a nickname she hadn’t heard since before the Conclave.

“You have a lot of frustration,” Iron Bull said as Cassandra put the training swords away. “Is hitting things your way of relieving stress?”

“One of, yes. It is a simple way to release my frustrations without hurting any of the people around me.” She caught him arching a brow at her and heaved a sigh. She refused to acknowledge his stupid grin. She didn’t know what he found so amusing. “I may enjoy it.”

“I knew it!” he laughed. “You and I are alike, Cass. You should let me buy you a drink.”

Cassandra laughed — she honestly laughed — and shook her head. “I do not think so, Bull.”

Bull glanced over the tents to Cullen. Cassandra followed his gaze; the commander was instructing a young elf with eager eyes how to properly wield a shield. She was transfixed by the lesson, nodding with everything he was saying. When Cullen handed the shield back and the elf turned back to her training partner, she was holding her shield correctly. He was an excellent commander.

“I heard a rumor when I first got here,” Bull said. He was looking at Cassandra now, squinting in the sun. “The boss told me you and Cullen—”

“Are good friends?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Athrien is ridiculous. Cullen is a friend.” She scoffed and covered her eyes with her hand. “Why is this something everyone must gossip about?”

Bull leaned close and whispered, “I caught you staring over there earlier.” He clicked his tongue as he blinked, an obvious wink, and chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Cassandra frowned up at him, her hands on her hips. “What secret? I have no such secret, Bull!”

“Your face is red.”

Indeed it was. She could feel her cheeks burning. She glared up at Iron Bull. Perhaps they couldn’t be friends after all.

“Why is your face red?” asked another voice, lilting and sweet. Athrien and Varric ambled up to them. Athrien had asked the question, then. He held an apple in his hand. “Have I missed something?”

“Intense workout,” Bull answered, cutting off any snide remark Varric had been preparing. The dwarf frowned up at him. “We sparred for, what, an hour?”

“And a half,” she confirmed. Bull was smiling at her. It was stupid. “I half expected you to be clumsier with a training sword. Your actual weapon must weigh as much as I do.”

“That would hardly surprise me,” Varric chimed in. “Shit, look at that thing.”

“Well, I’m glad you two are getting along,” Athrien said. “It would be awful if everyone hated each other.”

Bull chuckled. “She’s not so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Varric teased. He dodged Cassandra’s hand. “Oh, like you enjoy my company so much!”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise as she rolled her eyes. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she didn’t hate him either. He just got on her nerves more than most people did.

“What say we all get a drink?” Bull asked suddenly.

“I have other things to do,” Cassandra excused.

And she did have things. None of them were pressing, but she would rather spend her time alone than in a crowded tavern full of drunk soldiers. She had things to sort through, thoughts to analyze, feelings to stifle, and she needed to do those things on her own. In private, preferably.

* * *

Cassandra knew the Chant of Light better than she knew the back of her own hand. It had been her only friend when she went through her vigil. She said verses of it every day still, multiple times on her bad days, whenever she found herself doubting their budding Inquisition or Athrien’s faith.

Cassandra was in a secluded corner of the Chantry, lit only by soft candlelight, kneeling on the cold stone floor. This was the only place she could find peace where there was less of a chance of her catching hypothermia. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light and nothing that He had wrought shall be lost,” she murmured.

“I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here.”

She thought she had been alone. Even so, she invited Cullen with a nod of her head. He knelt beside her, adopting a similar pose, and bowed his head. They recited to themselves in silence. Cassandra could feel heat radiating from Cullen’s body toward her, making her forget the chill of the stone floor.

Eventually, she stood up. Cullen joined her after he finished his prayers.

“The Herald is waiting in the war room,” Cullen said.

“Shall we then?”

He tilted his head and fell into step beside Cassandra. “I hear you’ve met the Iron Bull.”

“I’ve had the pleasure.”

“And Sera?”

“Are you asking for my opinion of them, Commander?”

Cullen chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. “Perhaps. You have more opportunity to speak to Athrien’s newest friends than I do.”

“You would have plenty of opportunity if you took a break once in a while.”

“I’ll take a break once the Breach is sealed.”

Cassandra snorted. “Won’t we all?”

When Cassandra opened the door to the war room, she heard laughter. Athrien was leaning back against the edge of the table with Leliana and Josephine in front of him. They were laughing at a joke Athrien must have told. Cassandra had no interest in whatever it was, and it would seem Cullen didn’t either.

“Ahem.”

Athrien looked over his shoulder at him. He pushed himself away from the table and straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt. “Oh, I was wondering where you got off to.”

“Yes, tell us,” Leliana teased. She sent a knowing glance Cassandra’s way.

“We were reciting the Chant,” Cullen answered, oblivious and dense as ever. He must not have seen Leliana’s glance or Cassandra’s blatant offense, somehow. “Any news?”

Leliana turned serious, her hands folded behind her back. “None. My people haven’t uncovered anything new about the Breach.”

“Have we made a decision yet about who we will ally ourselves with?” Josephine asked. “We cannot stall for too long. The mages already grow restless.”

“I still think we shouldn’t trust the mages,” Cullen said.

“Well, why not? I could reason with them,” Athrien argued. He was always ready to argue about magic. He was easily angered when people forgot what he was capable of, like he didn’t want to be doubted, especially as the Herald of Andraste. Of anyone present, he was the one who could reason with the mages. He was the only one in the room who could possibly begin to understand why they rebelled. “They might listen to me.”

Cullen shook his head. “They are apostates.”

“ _I_ am an apostate!”

Cassandra bumped Athrien’s arm with the back of her hand. He lowered his gaze. “We must think carefully about this before we pick a group. The mages have their flaws, as do the Templars.” Cullen grunted in disagreement. She levelled a look at him that made him turn his gaze away. “In the end, it is the Herald’s decision and squabbling will not sway it.”

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was adamant about choosing the Templars for his own personal reasons and that was fine, Cassandra could understand that, but he didn’t have the final say in these decisions. They would all discuss it together like adults or not at all. He lifted his head to look exasperatedly at Athrien. “Say the mages have set a trap for you. What happens then?”

“If we manage to escape, we approach the Templars,” Athrien replied. He didn’t raise his voice again, but Cassandra could see that he was growing frustrated.

He scoffed. “That’s reassuring. And if you don’t escape, the Breach swallows all of Thedas.”

Athrien sighed softly. “The Templars could easily set a trap for us as well, seeing as how a mage is the Herald of Andraste. The Chantry isn’t the only faction upset with us.”

“But the mages could have been the ones to tear the sky asunder.”

“Enough!” Cassandra said. Cullen and Athrien were momentarily cowed. “Neither of you are children, do not act as such! We have time to come to an agreeable decision while we further our influence.” She had to wonder — when had she become the peacekeeper?

“For the moment, we are just discussing our options, gentlemen,” Leliana said somberly. “Nothing is off the table for the moment, but we must gather more information on both sides.”

“Oh! I have a report,” Josephine said suddenly. She shuffled through her pages. “A small number of noble houses have pledged their support to the Inquisition. Word is spreading rather quickly through Orlais. There is even a letter from the Emprise asking for your help, Herald.”

Leliana snickered behind her hand. Josephine reached out an elbow to jab at her side.

“Do you think it could wait until we seal the Breach?” Athrien asked.

“Does it hurt?” Josephine blurted. Her cheeks colored and she averted her eyes. Cassandra found hers fixed on the Anchor.

“Not at the moment.”

Leliana cleared her throat. “For the moment, we must focus on what we can do. Until we learn more, we can’t reach a decision.”

Leaning over the table, they looked at sections of the table’s maps and referred to field reports from agents and soldiers alike. They made idle chatter now and again, but stayed quiet for the most part. Athrien marked places where rifts had been reported. Leliana suggested scouting to the south while Cullen brought up the needs of the refugees in the Hinterlands.

Cassandra stayed out of discussions unless she had an opinion. She personally didn’t care what they did in the meantime. It was all the same to her; fighting, trekking through the wilds, lending a helping hand. She was really just itching to get out there again. Haven’s daily sounds were cloying, assaulting her eardrums with loud noises at every turn. Even the Chantry was hardly ever a quiet sanctuary these days.

Perhaps she would polish her armor before retiring to bed. There was a scuff in the paint that would need to be redone and a tear in her shirt. She wondered if she might be able to find thread and a needle. Perhaps Harritt would lend her one. She would need one that could pierce leather.

“I suppose there’s not much left to discuss,” Athrien said at last. He stood up straight, stretching his arms above his head. “Let me know when we hear something.”

He left first, ducking into Josephine’s office with the pretense of dropping research items off. Josephine and Leliana went down the main hall together, engrossed in a conversation about something that wasn’t Inquisition-related. Cassandra lingered for a moment, glancing at the maps again.

“Silver for your thoughts,” Cullen said softly.

“There is so much to do.”

“For now, we can rest.”

Cassandra raised her brows at him. “Now you talk about rest? You have worked straight through these last few weeks, Cullen. Where was your desire for rest then?”

He chuckled. “Perhaps it’s caught up with me.” He gestured for the door. “After you, Cassandra.”

They walked through the dark hall and outside into the cold. Snow was falling softly from the sky now, little white flakes clinging to their hair and clothes. She immediately shivered as a cold breeze ruffled her hair. She would never get used to the chill of Ferelden.

In the light of the setting winter sun, Cullen’s eyes were a sweet honey color. They peered out at the Breach from beneath golden lashes, rimmed red from lack of sleep. Cassandra felt her face burn when she caught herself staring and turned her gaze to the darkening sky overhead. She was not a naïve girl, fawning over something that meant nothing in the scheme of things. And mooning over a friend? Certainly not. She had no time for mooning.

“We should eat something,” Cullen said. He looked to Cassandra, smiling softly at her. “You’re not going to eat alone tonight, are you?”

“I suppose not,” she sighed. “There is worse company to be had.”

Cullen chuckled. “I could say the same.”

Cassandra laughed. She gestured to the tavern with a tilt of her head. “Shall we, Cullen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested! Just leave me a comment here or drop an ask on [my tumblr](http://almosthuman-butnotquite.tumblr.com) and I'll get back to you! I would love to have fresh eyes and a second opinion on these chapters before I get them out to you guys!


	4. The Sound of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it was a damn fine idea, even if Cullen disagreed. It was the only one they had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Sorry this took so long, if anyone is even still looking forward to updates. A lot has happened since January and I can't tell you how many times I rewrote this. So without further ado, I present chapter 4!

There were times that Cassandra stayed behind when Athrien left. It was nothing personal; in fact, she was grateful for the free time she found herself with when the Herald of Andraste left. It gave her time to read her books or demolish training dummies. She didn’t need to be in the thick of things every day. That wouldn’t be good for her health.

She figured out the source of her anger during the fortnight she spent in Haven while Athrien was out in the Hinterlands. She was confused about a lot of things. Her feelings were complicated, and in her forceful detachment from them, she made things worse. She had so much to figure out but there wasn’t enough time, there would never be enough time. Not with the Breach tearing the sky asunder, not with the world hurting the way it was.

“Cassandra?”

Cassandra looked up from her breakfast to find Josephine standing on the other side of the table. In her hands, she held something square wrapped in brown leather. “Josephine.”

The ambassador took the seat across from her. “Leliana told me you are interested in romance novels.”

Cassandra frowned. “I am not.”

Josephine unwrapped the object to reveal a book. Cassandra found herself curious. “This is an Antivan romance novel. It has always been a favorite of mine.” She held it out over the table, smiling gently. “I want to give it to you, Cassandra. Unless, of course, I have been misinformed.”

Cassandra hesitantly took the book from Josephine’s hands. “’Light of Her Dreams’,” she murmured, reading the title. _Ugh._

But the prospect of a romance novel recommended by a friend might prove to be a promising use of her down time.

“It was difficult to find a copy for you, but I enjoyed it myself. I want you to have it.”

“Josephine,” she breathed. She looked across the table to Josephine with wide eyes. “I cannot accept this.”

Josephine’s smile widened. “It is a gift, Cassandra. Please, I insist. But you must let me know what you think of it once you’ve finished.”

She swallowed, glanced down at the cover. There was a portrait of a woman bearing an uncanny resemblance to Josephine, a featureless man in the background. The author’s name was unfamiliar, but if Josephine gave it such high praise…

“Thank you,” Cassandra whispered, looking up at her friend. She cleared her throat. “It is a lovely gift.”

“You’re welcome,” Josephine smiled. “I do hope you enjoy it.”

Cassandra found herself prying open the cover the moment Josephine was gone, her breakfast forgotten in her curiosity. Josephine just provided her with the perfect distraction from her confusion.

She didn’t know how long she had read, but her breakfast had been taken away and many of the patrons were gone. She got up from the table and retreated to the Chantry. Athrien was lying in wait for her just inside the stone walls, pouncing the moment she was inside.

“Cassandra?”

She jumped in surprise, her book clattering to the floor. She rushed to pick it up before he could see it. “What is it?”

“I’m leaving for the Hinterlands again. I was wondering if you would like to go?”

Cassandra thought about the newest addition to her growing library currently cradled in her hands. But she would have time later, she knew she would. Her books could wait, but the world could not. “Allow me to change my armor.”

“Of course. I’ll wait with Bull and Varric outside.”

Cassandra put her armor on quickly, grabbing her sword and shield from the foot of her bed. She stared at the book for a moment, lying on her pillow, taunting her with the cliffhanger of the chapter she had finished earlier. She hastily stuffed it into her bag, though it was very unlikely she would find an opportunity to read. It was the thrill that came with having something she knew nothing about, she supposed.

They left the cold village of Haven behind and went east to the grassy Hinterlands. Cassandra missed the sunshine and warm breezes, the earthy smell of the woods. Haven was cold and bitter, and the only smells on the air were molten metals and stale ale. She was glad for any excuse to be out in nature again.

Athrien had made no mention of visiting Redcliffe when they left Haven behind, and yet there they were, standing down the road from the main gate. Varric and Iron Bull were peering around the trees and rocks to find the source of the shouting they could hear, placing quiet wagers on their own opinions of the noise. Cassandra was frowning at Athrien as he explained himself.

“I know we never decided,” the elf started, holding his hands aloft placatingly, “but I just want to talk to them. I haven’t made any decisions. I just need to know what’s going on in there.”

“I thought we would discuss this together.”

“Varric and I did,” he mumbled, plucking at the edge of his mage’s cowl.

“Do I look like Varric?” She heard the dwarf snort ahead of her. “Did anyone else know?”

Athrien shook his head. “No. But we do have other things to do. Leliana asked me to look into something for her. That’s what we’re here for, I swear it. This is just a quick detour. We’ll be leaving before you know it.”

Well, perhaps she would have time to read after all.

* * *

Closing a rift in the tight space inside of Redcliffe’s Chantry was not what Cassandra would consider quick. She was bumping elbows with Iron Bull the entire time, dodging horror claws and phantasmal balls of energy and a Tevinter mage she couldn’t quite see herself trusting. Bull nearly cleaved the man’s head in half — _on accident_.

“Would you tell your _friends_ to watch out next time?”

Athrien glared up at Bull. The Qunari simply grinned back at him. “They’ll be careful.”

“Fascinating. How does it work?” the stranger asked curiously. He laughed when Athrien made a face at him. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

“Who are you?”

“Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see. Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.” He bowed with a little flourish. “How do you do?”

“Watch yourself,” Bull muttered. “The pretty ones are always the worst.”

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra scoffed. “Watch yourself with this one.”

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian said cheerily. He glanced at Cassandra, clearing his throat as he caught her cautious glare. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable — as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Stop talking like you’re waiting for applause. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“What, there’s no applause? Fine.” Dorian stepped closer like he thought someone would overhear them in an empty Chantry. “Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted _time itself_.”

Athrien’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died?”

 _This is impossible,_ Cassandra thought to herself. _No matter how talented a mage may be, one cannot distort time. This Tevinter cannot be telling us the whole truth._

“You catch on quick,” Dorian said with a nod of his head.

Varric chortled. “He’s smarter than he looks, Sparkles.”

Dorian ignored the frown Athrien directed at Varric. “The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

Athrien folded his arms. “You’re asking me to take a lot on faith, here.”

Dorian’s lip curled. “I know what I’m talking about. I helped develop this magic.”

“Say we believe you,” Cassandra said.

“When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them,” said a sudden voice.

Cassandra felt herself reaching for her sword before the candlelight revealed Alexius’ son Felix. She dropped her hand back to her side, but she was still wary. There was no way that they could know if these Vints were people they could even trust. Every word from their mouths could be a lie. This could all be a trap.

Dorian snorted. “Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Felix looked to Athrien. “My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori’. And I can tell you one thing; whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

“All this for me? And here I didn’t get Alexius anything.”

“Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those,” Dorian suggested with a chuckle. He was serious the next moment. “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. Now, I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.” He started walking away, only to turn back. He kept moving backward as he said, “And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

Felix sighed. “There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”

They searched for anything of value in the Chantry’s chests, though Cassandra felt that they should have left things as they found them. The Chantry was still worthy of respect, even if the pews were mere piles of splinters now and one of the chandeliers lay shattered on the stone floor.

“This whole business is distasteful,” Cassandra said once they were outside the Chantry. “Perhaps we are better off pursuing the Templars instead.”

Varric hummed low in his throat. “Does Tevinter really need cults? Aren’t they weird enough?”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘dangerous,’” she replied.

* * *

His name was Warden Blackwall.

Leliana appeared wary of him after they had spoken, like something was off but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. When Cassandra asked what made her expression so pinched, she simply said, “He tactfully deflected my questions.”

Cassandra liked the Warden, however. She felt a sort of kinship with him as a righteous warrior wanting to help put the world back together. Blackwall was amenable, though quiet and withdrawn. He was kind with crinkles in the corners of his dark eyes. And respectful. ‘Lady Seeker’ was a new title.

Blackwall stayed in Haven when Athrien returned to Redcliffe. The Herald and his party had only returned to Haven for a few days, but already Cassandra was getting on well enough with the lone Grey Warden before they had to depart once again. She seemed to be getting new sparring partners every other week.

Cassandra approached Blackwall where he stood in the upper courtyard. “I am very pleased you joined us, Warden Blackwall.”

Blackwall nodded his head respectfully. “The honor is mine, Lady Seeker.”

“We need strong, righteous warriors — now more than ever.”

Blackwall’s eyebrows rose high. “Righteous? High praise, Lady Seeker. Many Wardens have hardly lived righteous lives.”

Cassandra nodded slowly. “True, yet you give yourself to an order that would die to protect others. It is never too late to do better and become more than what you are.”

“That is the hope,” Blackwall agreed.

Honestly, Cassandra was curious. This was the first Warden she had ever met. She was filled with a plethora of questions for Blackwall. “And how did you join the Wardens?”

Blackwall shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s the usual story.”

“There is no such thing as a ‘usual’ story,” she chuckled. She knew that better than most.

He arched a brow. “A tavern? A chance meeting? A Senior Warden who saw worth in a worthless man? I’m not alone.”

Cassandra squinted at him in the bright afternoon sun. “There is more to this, you just don’t want to tell it.”

“No, you don’t want to hear it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence together. In truth, she did want to hear it, but she would not press him further. Blackwall was too reserved and they were still strangers to each other. She was also unwilling to tell others certain things about her past.

“So,” Blackwall said eventually. “You were the Right Hand of the Divine, and Leliana the Left?”

“Yes, and if you joke about the Right Hand not knowing what the Left is doing, I will punch you,” she said.

“Me? No, I would never make such a terrible joke.”

Cassandra chuckled. “Really? I know plenty of people here would do so if given the chance.”

“Then they do not realize who you are.” Blackwall glanced behind Cassandra. “We will speak another time, Lady Seeker,” he said, and left in the direction of the tavern.

Cassandra turned to see Cullen approaching her. He folded his hands behind his back. She knew that look. He had a bone to pick, though she wasn’t sure if it was with her or with Athrien.

“I hear you’ve just returned from Redcliffe.”

Cassandra sighed. This particular bone was with Athrien, then. “I believe he has made his decision, though he spoke only with Varric on it.”

Cullen nodded. He seemed distracted. “I expected as much. He seemed determined to ally with the rebel mages. I had hoped to sway him, but he is difficult.”

“Stubborn,” she agreed.

He arched a brow. “You seem at peace with his decision.”

“I am. We are accomplishing what we set out to do.” She peered at him in the sunlight. “Might I ask why you were so adamant that the mages are not to be trusted?”

Cullen’s voice was strained when he answered, “I was at Kinloch Hold during the Blight. It fell apart when one of the mages took control of the tower. It was… I’d rather not speak of it, but it’s hard for me to trust a mage so easily.”

"I suppose we both have reason to distrust mages, but not all of them are untrustworthy, Cullen. I think this change will be a good thing.”

“I pray you’re right, for all of our sakes.”

“As do I.”

* * *

Athrien never said when he made his decision, but he gathered them all in the war room early one morning. He demanded that Cullen do what he could to contact the Templars and Lord Seeker Lucius. The bruise on his cheek from the Redcliffe Chantry rift was still purple. Perhaps that was what had made his decision — time-altering magic and Tevinter magisters were not what any of them wanted to deal with.

“Won’t you be turning your back on your people?” Josephine asked.

“They’re not my people,” Athrien replied, too quickly to be considered anything but snappish. “My people are the Dalish, not mages.”

“I’m surprised you support the Templars,” Cullen said. “You vehemently refused to even consider an alliance with them in the beginning.”

Leliana folded her hands behind her back. “Well, we must first convince the Lord Seeker to bring the Templars out of their exile.”

Cullen’s face settled into a scowl. “We’ve received word from a knight-recruit. They gather at Therinfal Redoubt.”

“It has been vacant for decades,” Cassandra pondered. “Why go there?”

“We must approach the Lord Seeker again to get anywhere,” Josephine pointed out. “We can ask him then.”

“If we present a plan to seal the Breach, the Templars may ally with us,” Athrien suggested.

“First, we must prove ourselves a more attractive prospect,” Leliana said.

Josephine’s eyes suddenly had a wicked gleam to them. “If it’s status the Lord Seeker seeks, the Inquisition will approach him after allying with the noblest houses in Orlais.”

“They’ll come with us to Therinfal Redoubt and demand the Templars help close the Breach,” Leliana continued.

Cullen was frowning now. His skepticism of the idea was written clear across his face. “You believe that will work?” he asked Leliana.

Well, Cassandra thought it was a good idea. “Even the Lord Seeker would find it difficult to ignore so many nobles on his doorstep,” she replied. And it was a damn fine idea, even if Cullen disagreed. It was the only one they had.

“Yes!” Leliana agreed emphatically. “ _Especially_ when led by the Herald of Andraste.”

Athrien’s brows drew together. “The Lord Seeker barely knows I exist.”

Leliana looked at him like he was speaking another language. “Rumors you were saved from the Fade by Andraste have grown legion among the Templars.”

“We’ve done our part to encourage them,” Josephine added.

“A Herald with a few companions may be dismissed. Easily set aside. That same Herald returning with noble support will be reconsidered, as will the power of the Inquisition.”

Leliana had a good point, but Athrien disliked the idea more than Cullen did. Cassandra knew it was their best shot. The world would not wait for them to make up their mind before tearing itself asunder. Whether or not the idea was desirable was debatable, but this was their only course of action with the Templars. Athrien would have to make do.

“Isn’t there the slightest chance that the Lord Seeker will see my arrival as a threat?”

“Before, I would have thought he was a man of reason,” Cassandra murmured. “Now, I could not say.”

“With respect, after his appearance in Val Royeaux, hang what the Lord Seeker thinks,” Cullen sneered, without any of the aforementioned respect.

Leliana stepped in before Cassandra could snap. “We do not need the Lord Seeker. We need his Templars, with or without his approval. The Breach will not wait for our differences to settle.”

"Indeed." Athrien sighed wearily. "Contact these noble houses and tell me when we're ready to march on Therinfal Redoubt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this chapter because I already had 10 pages and it's not even done yet. Another update soon to come!
> 
> As always, you can find me [here on tumblr](http://almosthuman-butnotquite.tumblr.com).


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